


Don't Let Me Be Gone

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood, Character Study, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, Maryse Lightwood Redemption, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, POV Maryse Lightwood, POV Outsider, Time Skips, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Oh, but how the world had fallen away when they’d placed her darling boy in her arms, Maryse remembers.Nothing had mattered but the small, achingly fragile life in her hands. Alec had quieted down almost immediately upon being placed in her arms, turning boneless in a move that had made Maryse’s heart stop for a second before she’d fallen in love.He’s perfect, she’d thought, and had let out a tiny, sobbing laugh.Or, Maryse takes a stroll down memory lane on a very important day.





	Don't Let Me Be Gone

How things change, Maryse thinks. 

It seems like only yesterday that she felt the quickening under her patrol uniform. Eighteen and terrified, she’d stay up long after Robert had fallen asleep each night. Lingering in the living room of their tiny apartment in Idris, Maryse had talked in soft, soothing tones to her baby bump-- to Alec-- long after midnight had come and gone.

Singing a French lullaby that had been her own favorite as a child, Maryse had spent those dark, silent hours wondering how the hell she was going to survive. The noose around Valentine’s neck was tightening with every day that passed and she knew-- deep down she knew-- that it was only a matter of time until the Clave found her family.

She prayed that she’d be spared-- that her child would be spared, at the very least.

Maryse had always wanted to be a mother. While her own parents had been stoic shadowhunters to their core, she’d dreamed of how she’d do things differently. She’d be a softer mother than her own. 

So young, she thinks now, to feel like the weight of the world was crushing her shoulders. Still, Alec’s always been her saving grace. From the very first moment Maryse had realized why she’d been sick every morning for two weeks, Alec’s been a dream she’d held onto with everything she had.

Somehow--and for a very long time-- Maryse had forgotten that.

During the trial and the worry that she’d be executed in front of the cold, unforgiving eyes of the Clave, Maryse had clung onto the hope her child gave her. She’d almost passed out when she’d learned her sentence had been commuted. Serving a life sentence at the New York Institute had been a blessing from Raziel himself. 

Settling into the Institute had taken ages. Maryse never felt at home in the cold, unforgiving building. Still, she’d thrown herself into becoming the best damned Head of the Institute anyone had ever seen.

Maryse can still feel the ghost of the backaches she’d suffered as she’d kept long hours even as her delivery date loomed closer. Most of her time was spent in her office, pouring over paperwork and setting things to right. Everyone had been so distrustful, so contemptuous, and while Maryse would never admit aloud that she’d sought respite behind the closed doors of her office, she knows that’s what it was.

Walking along the corridors, standing in the mission center giving orders, Maryse had often kept upright through sheer force of will. Her swollen feet had ached, headaches had plagued her, and not even resting a hand under her bump had been enough to offer any sort of comfort.

Still, she was a Lightwood by marriage and a Trueblood by heart. She was made of sterner stuff and Maryse had damned well refused to give her subordinates the satisfaction of seeing her weak.

Robert had been less than useless, even all those years ago, and so Maryse had largely been left to take care of things on her own while her husband was distracted with other _pursuits_.

She was heavily pregnant, after all, and far more focused on work and Alec than her husband. That’s what Robert had thrown out when confronted, at least. It had been one more weight that had threatened to break her back but Maryse had been young and still so naively in love.

Alec had been born two weeks early and had filled Maryse with so much terror and fear when she’d first heard his wailing cries. Robert was nowhere to be found and so Maryse had went through labor and delivery by herself, with no one but the infirmary medics to guide her.

Oh, but how the world had fallen away when they’d placed her darling boy in her arms, Maryse remembers.

Nothing had mattered but the small, achingly fragile life in her hands. Alec had quieted down almost immediately upon being placed in her arms, turning boneless in a move that had made Maryse’s heart stop for a second before she’d fallen in love.

_He’s perfect_ , she’d thought, and had let out a tiny, sobbing laugh. She was eighteen and the mother to the most perfect child in the universe, she’d marveled.

When her son, her perfectly perfect child, had gripped her finger with his tiny little fist, Maryse had been delighted and so proud. She’d vowed to protect the bundle in her arms with everything she had.

As she thinks back to that afternoon for the millionth time, something in Maryse grieves for how things had turned so terribly, devastatingly wrong.

While she’d wanted nothing more than to stay in solitude with Alec, Maryse had taken a scant three days to recover before dragging herself-- and Alec-- to her office. Exhaustion had ridden her hard for weeks-- months-- as she’d tirelessly worked her ass off, balancing being a new mother and the Head of the Institute. It was overwhelmingly and oftentimes Maryse got through days going minute by minute with white-knuckled determination. 

Alec had stayed in a little bassinet she’d put together right next to her desk and it seemed like a never ending cycle of feeding and changing and signing off on reports and reading missives.

Alec had been her only spot of brightness for ages. Sometimes her eyes were so blurry she couldn’t see straight but she’d take an hour in the evening and carry Alec up to her bedroom. Rocking him to sleep, Maryse had felt something clutch at her heart whenever big hazel eyes looked up at her, happy and open and full of love.

Something had shifted, though. Slowly but surely Maryse had lost sight of what made her heart sing. She’d thrown herself full tilt at work, trying desperately to outrun her mistakes and polish her name back from its tarnished ruin. She’d wanted Alec to be proud to be a Lightwood-- and a Trueblood-- and that had been her guiding hand for years.

For far longer than it should’ve ever been.

Lost in thought, Maryse remembers Alec’s third birthday. She was pregnant with Isabelle, though she hadn't known it at the time, and had decided in a rare indulgence-- her last for decades-- to spend the day with Alec.

Going to the nursery wing, Maryse had watched as Alec had picked his outfit for the day. He was a happy boy, always smiling, always so full of wonder. Biting her tongue to keep silent, Maryse had sighed a little to herself as her toddler picked green shorts with turtles along the edge and a light blue t-shirt. It didn’t match but it was colorful, that much was a given.

Alec had always favored bright colors-- until he didn’t.

Pushing away from the doorway, Maryse had grinned as Alec’s eyes lit up when he saw her. Gesturing for him to lift his arms, Maryse had dressed her son, kissing his cheek when she was finished.

“Mama,” Alec had asked, staying admirably still while Maryse tried to comb his hair into some semblance of order.

“What is it, baby?” Her voice had been distracted with her task when he’d replied.

“Why don’t you ever wear your hair down anymore?”

Stilling, Maryse had looked down at him at a loss for words. She’d grown so used to throwing it in a ponytail or bun to keep it out of her way. It’s been ages since she wore it down. She’s a little surprised Alec remembers at all.

“I don’t know, Alec. Why?”

“You look pretty with your hair down, is all.”

Something tightens around Maryse’s throat at the innocent words. She won’t notice for years but it’s a crossroads of sorts. Maryse supposes that she could’ve laughed and taken her hair down for the day. She could’ve changed out of the dress that was firmly part of her Head of the Institute wardrobe and tried to look softer, more like a mother than a leader.

Instead, she laughs it off and tickles Alec. His laughing gasps are music to her ears and as they walk around New York, Maryse can’t quite remember a better day.

The sun is shining in the late fall and they feed the ducks in Central Park, Alec delighted as the animals eat the bread crumbs dutifully after each toss.

Things change so quickly after that, though. Maryse realizes she’s pregnant and all of a sudden she has to lead her people-- she has to prove herself-- when all she wants is to crawl into bed and sleep for a year.

Alec’s an energetic boy who’s always reaching for her and as her pregnancy continues, it gets harder and harder to keep up with him. Add that to her job and Maryse feels like she’s drowning, like she just can’t quite manage to keep her head above water.

It’s exhausting.

But Maryse always feels eyes on her-- the Consul, who could rescind the offer at any moment, the Clave who wants to see her fail with a desperate glee she can’t make sense of, and her subordinates who have railed against her command for the past three years.

They’re coming around-- she’s making them come around-- but it’s a painstakingly slow process.

Then Isabelle is born, healthy and glowing. Maryse feels her world fall away for a second time and can’t contain her excitement when she introduces her daughter to her brother.

Alec, always curious, stares at Isabelle with wide eyes. He’s happy, though, and so damned patient. Maryse is ashamed of it now, but she’d taken advantage of Alec. Alec had listened so earnestly as Maryse had explained just how important Isabelle was to the family and that if Alec wanted to be a good big brother, he’d need to protect her and look after her.

Alec had nodded so sternly-- she’d laughed a little at his expression, really, before wincing in pain-- and had promised to be the best big brother ever.

There have been more times than she’d like to admit that Maryse has regretted her words but from that moment on, Alec had taken Isabelle under his wing.

He’d called her Izzy and had been a constant companion to the newest edition to the Lightwood family. Maryse had caught Alec in Izzy’s crib, both of them sleeping with their thumbs in the mouth. Isabelle had been inseparable from Alec. She’d cry for him-- more often than she ever cried for her mother, Maryse knows without a doubt.

And Alec had always been there.

Two peas in a pod, Maryse had figured and she’d left them to their own devices while she lost herself in work.

It seemed like all she ever did was work. She worried about budgets and reprimanded her shadowhunters and turned the New York Institute into one of the best offices in North America. It had taken so much hard work-- more than she’d ever thought herself capable of-- but she’d risen to become a trusted, valued shadowhunter.

She always heard the wolves in the distance, though.

The invitations to attend meetings in Alicante had been slow to extend. She’d held her breath the first time she’d stepped on Idris soil for the first time in five years, tears stinging her eyes as she’d walked past places she’d thought she’d never see again.

Things hit a stride and life settled into a routine. And then Jace came along.

Maryse had welcomed the boy with open arms, feeling for him and wanting to show respect to a once dear friend. It hadn’t taken long, however, for unease to grow in the pit of Maryse’s stomach.

For a very long time, Maryse prided herself on knowing her son better than she knew herself. She’d watched Alec spar with Jace with sharp eyes and tension bloomed in her spine.

_Oh, Alec_ , she’d thought.

She knew what those looks meant. She could see the way her son’s eyes followed Jace around the room when he thought no one was looking.

Maryse still loved Alec with every piece of her heart but a piece of her-- a stupid, hateful piece-- had mourned. She’d grieved the life her son could have had. 

The life she’d wanted him to have.

She’d never said anything but Maryse sees now how she’d changed yet again. She lived in fear that her carefully built house of cards would come crumbling down at any minute. Robert could hardly be dragged from Idris, no matter that they'd just had a third child in a stupid, desperate attempt to salvage their marriage and every time Maryse looked at Alec, all she saw was another inevitable stain on the Lightwood name. She’d grown colder, harder. She’d demanded perfection and been unforgiving when it wasn’t delivered.

She’d kept a careful eye on the pair and had breathed a quiet but fervent sigh of relief when Jace had asked her son to be parabatai. She doesn’t know if Jace ever realized Alec’s feelings but if so, he never let on.

As far as she’s concerned, it's a blessing that Alec had found someone who promised to always be in his corner. Angel knew that Maryse hadn’t done that. She suspects that Jace might have even protected Alec from _her_ on occasion.

Sighing shakily at the thought, Maryse carefully dabs at her eyes, loathe to ruin her makeup.

She’s no longer young. She’s not ancient, is far from being relegated to an old, musty office in the bowels of the Clave’s building in Idris but, still.

Maryse is no longer that frightened eighteen year old or determined twenty five year old.

She’s a grown woman who’s lived enough to have a mountain of regrets and some more besides. There are things she’d do anything to change and so much of that revolves around the man currently dancing in the middle of the crowded ballroom.

If it had been her who’d been subjected to such abuse, Maryse doesn’t think she could forgive her mother. Alec’s always been a surprise, though, and his greatest weakness has always been his family.

How things change, Maryse thinks again. Sometimes when she was being particularly cruel to Alec, there had been a voice in her head, railing at her to stop. Take a deep breath, apologize, try to salvage the relationship that she was ruining with every cutting word and dismissive glance.

She was a terrible mother and her list of faults are never ending. Maryse knows that without a doubt. When Alec had told her about his betrothal to Lydia, Maryse had been over the moon. She’d become someone that she didn’t recognize and all she could see was the Clave’s approval and another line of the family dynasty secured.

It hadn’t mattered to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Alec smile. It was of no consequence that she’d known damned well that Alec didn’t love Lydia-- that he _couldn’t_. She’d seen his sacrifice as the gesture it was and it had warmed her goddamned heart to see Alec rising to the occasion and putting the family’s needs above his own.

The thought sickens her, now. As she watches the scene in front of her, Maryse mourns another incarnation of Alec-- the one who didn’t defy her and choose himself.

Distantly, she hopes that Alec finds Magnus in every universe because it seems such a tragedy to deprive the world of so much happiness-- and her son of so much joy and love and peace.

Alec keeps perfect time to the orchestra’s waltz and he looks so happy that Maryse almost wants to look away. That depth of feeling seems so private and as Maryse studies Magnus, she wonders how she can ever repay the man who stole her son’s heart-- and, quite possibly, saved his life more times than Maryse can ever count.

Her son’s a married man. Maryse feels the past twenty five years dripping through her fingers like golden grains of sand, each one precious even if she was far from the mother her children needed.

She replays a million memories from a kicking stomach in the middle of the night to a laughing baby in the bathtub to a solemn little boy with wide, serious eyes.

Alec grew up and became the man he needed to be, despite Maryse’s best attempts at sabotage.

She can’t ever forgive herself for abandoning Alec-- and Izzy and Max-- when they most needed her. There won’t ever be a time that regret doesn’t strangle her when she thinks of all the ways she messed up and ruined things that she worries can’t ever be repaired. 

Working every day to be the mother her children need is the only job Maryse is interested in these days. Taking a sip from her champagne flute, Maryse leans against Luke’s side and relives dozens of memories, mourning the dozens she didn’t care enough to make at the time.

Still, when the waltz ends-- with Alec kissing Magnus to within an inch of his life, much to the wedding guests’ amusement-- Maryse smiles brightly as her son makes his way towards her.

He holds out a hand and Maryse laughs a little as she sets her glass down and takes Alec’s outstretched hand.

Leading her to the middle of the dance floor, Maryse’s ears strain to hear the starting piece of the music. When she does, her eyes fly to Alec, who’s watching her with intent eyes.

An orchestral version of the French lullaby plays for their mother-son dance and Maryse’s eyes tear up as Alec leads them.

“Congratulations, Alec,” Maryse says softly as they take a turn around the room.

She watches as Alec’s face lights up more, if that’s even possible. She sees the way his eyes seek out something across the room and Maryse doesn’t have to follow to know who’s found his attention.

Still, Alec’s gaze snaps back to her a few moments later and he studies her for a moment in a move that makes Maryse the tiniest bit uncomfortable-- Alec’s always had such a serious, prodding stare-- before he smiles.

It’s not a grin. It’s something softer, a faint upturn of his mouth. She’s just getting ready to ask if there’s cake on her face when Alec says softly, “I like your hair down, mom. It makes you look happy.”

The back of Maryse’s throat aches at the words, at the careful delivery as though Alec’s afraid that he’s offended her.

“I am happy,” she replies just a quietly. Alec probably has to strain to hear her over the music and the crowd but Maryse can’t speak louder, doesn’t want to ruin this fragile, lovely moment between them.

“That’s good,” Alec says somberly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t happy today.”

Taking a bracing breath, Maryse smiles at Alec. It’s bright and real and just a touch nervous. The song ends and the two of them glide to a stop back in the middle of the dance floor. There’s chatter all around them and it feels like they’re the only two people in the world for a minute.

Pulling Alec close, Maryse wraps her arms around her son, holding on with everything she has.

“Of course I’m happy, Alec,” she whispers. “I am so proud of you for fighting for love and today’s one of the best days of my life, seeing my son get his happily ever after.” Pulling back, Maryse swallows her own tears even as she sees one in the corner of Alec’s eye. She wipes it away with a careful thumb, still smiling. “It’s all a mother should want for her son and I feel blessed by the Angel that I was able to see today. I love you, Alec.”

“I love you too, mom,” Alec chokes out and then he’s pulling her close and they’re hugging again.

Maryse doesn’t know how long the two of them stay like that, letting the rest of the world fall away. Alec shifts after a moment, though, and as Maryse looks up, her breath catches.

Her eyes lock with Magnus’s against the room and she watches as he studies the two of them, smiling as he absently sweeps his thumb over the ring that now adorns his finger-- the only ring he’s wearing today.

With a shaky breath, Maryse nods at Magnus. It feels like the passing of a baton, no matter that Alec hasn’t been hers in far longer than she cares to think about.

Still, Magnus nods back, expression serious, and Maryse knows that her son has found a love she can only hope to have one day.

Maryse has a lot of regrets and she knows that she’ll take them to her grave. By the grace of the angel, though, she’s found her way back to where she belongs.

With her family.

For the thousandth time, Maryse promises herself that she won’t ever forsake them again, that she’ll work every day to be the mother her children needed so long ago.

It’s a long way back, she thinks.

But how lucky for her that she has the rest of her life to fix her mistakes and prove to her children just how much she loves them.

And really, Maryse can’t think of any other way that she’d want to spend her life than doing just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr or twitter @carmenlire!


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